Something Wicked This Way Comes (closed)

TheVoiceWithout

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Lysander broke through the underbrush as quietly as he was able, though he feared he still caused quite a terrible amount of noise. He hadn’t wished to advertise his passing to everyone and everything in the area, which is why he’d avoided roads as much as possible during his journey, though at the moment he was starting to rethink the idea… He’d been combing the area in search of his quarry for what seemed like ages, and had gotten no further than passing mentions and vague directions, and was beginning to grow frustrated with the entire endeavor. Not that he would give up; he would never give up, for the duty had been given him by the highest regent of his order and to go against the regent would be to go against the order, which would be tantamount to committing to living without breathing. The underbrush tested his resolve sorely, nonetheless, snagging on his cloak and boots, clawing at his arms as he attempted to wend his way past trees and bushes.

When they’d set him on this course, to find *Her* and protect her, he had assumed it would be a simple matter, given that they’d had a rough idea of where she most likely lived and her approximate age. Lysander was more than prepared for the journey, or so he thought at the outset. He had packed provisions enough to see him through a month of journeying, arms at his side in case of brigands or other trouble, a warm cloak and comfortable clothing made for traveling, and of course, a rolled piece of vellum upon which was written the prophecy itself.

Stepping into a clearing, he put his right foot down into a mud puddle, which caused him to trip and slip to one knee. “Oh gods…” he grumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth as he wrenched his foot free of the cloying mud with a sickly sucking noise. Standing up straight, finally unimpeded by overhanging branches and the like, he stretched out to his full six and a half feet, casting about with steely blue eyes, searching for movement along the far side of the small glen. Seeing nothing, he began crossing warily, running a hand up across his forehead and through his shaggy brown hair, pushing it back from his face in an effort to look nonchalant. The last information he’d heard mentioned a girl or woman living somewhere within these woods, out off the beaten path and all alone. That was all he’d been able to glean in the local tavern, though it was more than he’d heard in the previous one, and the profile sounded like she might fit… The weather in the area had also been noticeably different for the time of year, swinging back and forth between calm and stormy, grey skies and clear, which would also make sense if she were coming into her own as the prophecy said… Now he simply had to find her home amidst the dense bracken, tall trees and swaying bushes.
 
The smell of fresh earth filled the air as she dug her trowel into the black soil, smiling as she saw the first green shoots of spring starting to grow. It would be a good year, she thought to herself as she smoothed away the damp ground from the fresh green leaves. The air still carried a chill and there was the thread of snow from the grey clouds hanging heavy over the land, but she hoped that the icy weather stayed away.

Cassandra had lived alone for almost two years now. When she turned eighteen, the man that had raised her passed away. It was a lonely life there in the middle of the woods, but one that she had grown to enjoy. Every so often she would venture into town to trade for wears, but she kept to herself more often then not.

A rumble of thunder sounded overhead and she sighed, turning her dark blue eyes towards the grey clouds. She slapped the dirt from her palms and stood, her deep red wool skirt falling around her legs in folds. She pushed her blonde hair back from her forehead and smudged her pale cheek with mud. She was growing weary of the constantly changing weather and she longed for the days of sunshine and warmth.

Grabbing her straw basket, she moved back towards her tiny house and entered the warmth as the first raindrops hit the roof. She placed her basket upon the table and stoked up her fire, thinking on what more she could do that day as the rain fell a bit harder on the little clearing in the forest that she lived.
 
“A young woman, they said, who keeps to herself and rarely ventures into town. Just off the beaten path, they said, just a scant few miles out into the woods…” Lysander grumbled to himself under his breath as he walked, weariness eating away at him with each step as the wind blew dust and branches into his face. Thunder rumbled in from the distance, carrying with it the first few drops of what was sure to be a long, harsh storm. He’d come too far to turn back and make for town, but his options out among the woods and wild did not seem favorable either. Picking up the pace, despite the rough terrain and clinging branches, he began stomping through underbrush with little regard for stealth, searching for some place to wait out the rain. If what the villagers had said was correct, the weather would change soon enough, hopefully becoming calm before nightfall. Lysander did not relish the prospect of another night spent out of doors, sodden and cold, with only leaves and his cloak to shield and warm him.

“The road will be hard at times, and your resolve will be tested many times over, but you must not give in or give up. Ours is the path of hardship, this is known; but ours is also the path of strength and light. For without hardship to test our strength, we may not grow stronger.” The regent’s words echoed in his ears, replayed for what might have been the hundredth time since being spoken months ago, before he began the journey. He’d known the road would be hard, though he hadn’t expected it to be quite so… rugged. All would be different soon, once he’d found her and released her from the charge of whomever was responsible for her, then they could return to the temples and all would be well…

Either the sun was setting early that day or the clouds were growing thicker, rolling in across the horizon to shut out the day and casting everything into the dim glow of early twilight like a great woolen blanket drawn across the sky. Lysander sighed as he trudged into another clearing, this time being sure to check his path for mud or loose stones first. It had grown harder to see as the storm came into its own, and the rain had begun turning to hail, the tiny frozen pebbles pelting him unrelentingly like hundreds of tiny pixy-sized fists hammering away at his head, shoulders and back. A chill had begun to creep into his limbs, slowly working its way towards his core, and he cursed the forest for its size and depth, wishing he’d stayed to the roads and braved the possibility of brigands and bandits, for at least there was a possibility of shelter by the roadside.

Suddenly, though, he spotted a soft glow on the other edge of the clearing; though from that range he couldn’t quite tell what it was. It could have been a campfire, a caravan’s lantern, or even something truly unsavory such as spellfire or the like… In his haste to reach the warmth and light, dangerous or no, he hurried across the glade, not caring to take note of his surroundings as he normally would. Therefore, he was almost completely upon the residence before it became apparent what it was – a small cabin of sorts, with the light of a hearth glowing warmly inside. Confident that he was in less danger from the possible inhabitants than he was from the elements, he found the front entrance and knocked heartily twice upon the front door, calling out “Please, I am a traveler far from home, cold and soaked through, and I wish only a place by your fire until the skies clear. I mean you no harm, and can offer payment, meager though it may be.” Drawing himself up to his full height, he drew back his cloak and rested a hand upon the hilt at his waist. Not that he believed himself to be in danger of being attacked by the occupants of the small house in the woods, but it paid not to be caught unawares, just in case. As he waited for a response from inside, he took in a large lungful of the cool forest air, breathing in the scents of earth and rain and something floral he couldn’t quite place.
 
Cassandra had just placed a hank of meat in her stew pot when she heard the hail on the roof of her little cabin. She turned her eyes towards the ceiling, sighing deeply at the dreadful sound. Her knew shoots of green plants would be pummeled if it grew any larger and she dreaded the scene that she would find come the morning time.

The sound of her water boiling soon filled the cabin and she moved to slice a few pieces of the hearty black bread she’d made that morning when a knock sounded against her door. Turning towards it, she frowned as a man’s voice came through, asking for shelter from the rain and sleet.

It was strange to hear another’s voice, especially there in the middle of the woods. Many didn’t choose to venture that far and those that did usually left her alone. They said that she was cursed, a fairie, one that would tempt you and steal your soul if left alone for too long. Of course that wasn’t true and she always ignored their voices, but it still weight heavily on her heart.

Moving the heavy bar across the door, Cassandra opened it slightly, peering out into the gathering gloom to see a man that was chilled to the bone and soaking wet. He shivered, tiny droplets of water shaking off his handsome face. Her blue eyes took in his honest face and his worn traveling attire and she opened the door the slightest bit more. He stood a good head taller than her and his body possessed a strength that obviously came from a life of hard work.

“Come in.” She said in her hauntingly high and airy voice, moving to the side to allow him entrance into the small, but warm cabin.

Her bed stood along one wall by the roaring fire and the smells of dinner were beginning to waft from the pot that was boiling merrily on the stove. She pushed the door shut behind her, the sounds of hail turning quiet but she could see fat white flakes of snow starting to drift towards earth through the small window that sat beside the hearth.

She stared at the man, her eyes narrowing as she took him in. He didn’t seem to be a danger, but her guardian had taught her that looks could be deceiving. She kept a small dagger in the folds of her gown, one that was sharp and ready to taste blood should the man turn on her.

“Would you care for a drink?” She asked him, watching as he removed his cloak and exposed an even finer body then she could have every imagined. Her cheeks heated at the thought and she brushed past him to pour him a drink from the steaming kettle that simmered on a nearby hook. The hot water poured over various herbs and sweet flowers, creating a potent but delicious mixture in the bottom of the earthen mug that she soon offered him.
 
Lysander was more than a little taken aback when the door opened. A rush of warmth greeted him like a lost companion after an arduous trek, and it was only then that he realized how cold he had become, as a shiver ran through his body, practically rattling his spine. He was sure that if he’d been wearing plate it would have clanked and jangled as he stood dripping on the doorstep. Though the door was barely open, subtle aromas began wafting out to greet him, scents of home and belonging, a place not only lived in but loved and cared for. The door opened slightly more and a silhouette stepped between him and the rest of the cabin, plunging him once more into the encroaching twilight. The woman seemed to glow briefly, the flames dancing and waving behind her as she beckoned him inside, and Lysander smiled in gratitude.

Once inside, he noted that it was only a single room, though everything was arranged neatly enough, and the overall appearance was quite cozy. He also couldn’t help but notice a little more of her as he doffed his cloak, watching the way she moved as she brushed past him and towards the hearth. There was a refined air about her, the way she moved, the way she spoke, and it all combined in his mind’s eye, along with her already pleasing figure, to make quite the impression upon him. Forcing the thoughts away, Lysander coughed under his breath, as though to hide some off-hand remark, though he hadn’t yet said anything. She was looking at him questioningly, and he asked, “I beg pardon? Oh,” suddenly realizing the offering, “Yes, please. A warm drink would do much to sooth the damp chill.”

Taking the proffered mug, he took in a deep breath of the wafting aroma, which reminded him of the forest glade of that afternoon. He idly wondered if some of the ingredients had been picked there. It hadn’t been too far away, though she probably knew easier places to find ingredients for tea. Taking a sip, he sighed heartily, “Many thanks, my lady. It has been a long journey already, and this cursed weather seemed determined that I never reach my destination.” Looking towards the window beside the hearth, he frowned at the large, fat flakes of snow that had begun accumulating on the sill. It would be near impossible to make any further headway on his journey in weather like that… The sky was darkening still further, clouds beginning to roll in on each other, blanketing everything in darkness and cold. Still, such drastic changes in weather could only mean one thing: that he was nearing his destination.

As she moved his eyes were drawn to her again, sliding slowly from her face as she turned away from him, down the curve of her form as she moved, mesmerized by her motions. It had been a long time for Lysander, since he had last been with a woman, but he was a member of the Order, and above all else, he was a good man, and he kept his thoughts to himself. He certainly didn’t wish to antagonize the woman who’d given him respite, however brief, from the cold and the snow, and a place by her fire. Instead, he began studying the small abode once more, eyes roving across the hand crafted furniture and up along the walls. Everything about it bespoke a single occupant, from the small bed to the single place setting upon the table. Wheels began turning and thoughts coalesced in his mind, his brow furrowing as he stroked his chin and took another sip of tea. “This is a very nice home you have here. Do you live here all alone? It must seem quite lonely at times…”

Snapping his mouth shut, he realized how that must have sounded, and he chided himself for speaking without thinking. Clearly the cold had taken its toll on more than just his limbs, or perhaps it was the soothing tea that had loosened his thoughts. Taking a step forward and bowing slightly, he began again. “My name is Lysander, and I am… Well, one might call me a knight errant, while another might simply deem me a fool. My Lady, might I ask your name in return?” His pulse began to quicken, his heart sped along with it, though he knew her name would not aid him any. No one of the Order knew the chosen one’s name, otherwise they would have told him of it long before, but still… There was something about her voice that touched him on a deeper level. Something about her spoke to him without the need of words, and whether she were the one or not, she had mesmerized and entranced him all the same.
 
Cassandra smiled softly at the stranger as he mentioned the strange weather. Yes, it was strange indeed, but not entirely uncommon around the clearing where she lived. She turned her gaze towards the window that he was looking at and she noticed the way that the snow was already gathering on the outside of the house and the surrounding area.

“It seems that you might not be going anywhere for a while. Strange since it should be past time for such a thick storm.” She said as she moved back towards the pot that was bubbling over the fire. She stirred the thick brew, taking in the heavy smell of meat and vegetables.

She glanced over her shoulder at the man as he asked about her home. She thought for a moment on what she should tell him. Her guardian had brought her up to tell the truth and to cherish honesty, but she also knew that sometimes men could not be trusted around a woman on her own.

“My name is Cassandra. Cassandra Du Prey. I’ve lived here as long as I can remember.” She pulled down two clay bowls and two silver spoons, placing them on the table and inviting him to take a seat while she served her meal. “My parents died when I was very young and my guardian died…two years ago. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday.”

Cassandra went quiet for a long moment as she thought about the strong man that had cared and protect her for so long. He had the bearing of a soldier, but the kindness of a scholar. She missed him terribly sometimes. She would turn to him for advice and questions about her life before coming to the forest. He was always notorious about never giving her detail in the life she’d had before that time.

“So, you’re a traveler?” She asked him, changing the subject immediately. She could hear a rumble of thunder in the distance and it seemed to reflect the mood that she was in. “You must have seen many things in your travels that were unusual and interesting.”
 
Cassandra Du Prey… He mulled the name over several times, furrowing his brow as he delved back into the farthest reaches of his memory for some mention of the name. There had been famous Du Preys, now and again, though none in the last few decades, at least. That didn’t preclude her from being the object of his search, however. Lysander thought harder, grasping at the frayed edges of passing thoughts, clinging to scraps of remembered passages and seemingly ancient recitals as though he were drowning and they his only means of survival. Still he found no connection. Perhaps she’d been born into an ordinary family after all…

Ordinary was perhaps too strong a word, though, as she was beautiful to behold and obviously learned about the ways of the world, surviving out away from the village on her own. He wondered whether she might have had a tutor earlier in life, as she was clearly well spoken and intelligent, and quite skilled from the look of her home. Running a hand slowly across the table, the wood was warm and soft to the touch. The bowl was well made, smooth and polished and clean, unlike much of the detritus that clogged the tables of the inns he’d passed through in his time. His estimation of her rose another few notches, and he glanced in her direction, catching a glimpse of her sitting and thinking, rather fetchingly, out of the corner of his eye. She was certainly striking, and beautiful to behold. There was no doubt in his mind, though, that she could take care of herself, and he offhandedly wondered where she might conceal a blade or dagger, pushing the thoughts away before they became too distracting.

Taking the proffered seat at the table, he took in the enchanting smell of homemade stew, eyes closed as he savored the aroma. It had been so long since he’d had anything besides wayfarer’s rations, cheap watery soup and stale bread that he almost shed a tear. The rigors of travel had left him weary and beaten, and this respite, however brief, was already proving a boon to both mind and body. He barely noticed Cassandra where she sat, engrossed in her thoughts, and though his interest was piqued, he didn’t think it fair or good manners to prod her in that state. Nonetheless, when she snapped out of it and spoke once more he was a little taken aback. “A traveler, yes, though not always. My full history would take a day to tell, and more than half of it no doubt would seem inconceivable while the other half utterly mundane. I have seen many things in my days in the wide world, some so awful as to turn that beautiful blond hair of yours white as bone. Others so beautiful they’d render any sane man senseless. I could tell you stories, no doubt, as anyone who’s ventured so far from their home might, but I fear my endless droning would put you to sleep.” He chuckled softly, glancing over to gauge her reaction before continuing.

“These days, however, my path is much less aimless. The order of which I am a part has given me a great quest, and duty, to which I am bound inexorably for the rest of my days, it would seem.” Lysander pondered on how much to reveal of what had brought him into the woods and her home. If she *were* the chosen one, she would need to know all of it, though if she weren’t it might simply fill her head with thoughts of worry for the coming days. Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he gave her an appraising look, as if willing some sign to appear, something to show he’d found the one he’d been searching for… Outside, the thunder rumbled and crashed again, closer this time. It seemed the weather was in a dark mood and intent on punishing the forest for some slight. In an attempt to belay his decision he turned back to the stew, taking a large mouthful and sighing appreciatively and smiling brightly. “My, this is good! I haven’t had a decent meal in ages. Where did you learn to cook like this? You could certainly teach the innkeepers and tavern owners of these parts a few lessons…”
 
“An order? As in a religious order?” She asked the traveler as she listened to his story. It was unusual to get visitors this far out in the woods and even more rare to see a man such as the one that was now eating before her. “And what are you searching for way out here in the woods with the weather so unpredictable? You might have frozen out there had you not stumbled upon my house.”

She blushed as he heaped praise on her stew, a smile gracing her lips as she sat across from him and took a spoonful for herself. It was savory and delicious, just as her guardian had taught her. He was a man of many means, an ex soldier and someone that she loved dearly. He had taught her how to be self sufficient and live on her own. It had always been safer that way…

“The man who raised me taught me how to cook. He also taught me a healthy respect for the plants that grow here in the forest. It’s good to know which can make a savory stew and which might strike you dead.” She said in a voice that spoke of experience. The wind began howling outside, making the little cabin shutter with the force of it even as it remained toasty warm on the inside.

“It seems as if you’d be best advised to stay here for the evening. The storm should stop come morning. They usually do.” She said in her quite way, another smile on her lips as she went silent and focused on the stew before her. She noticed the way that he devoured his meal and made sure to freshen his bowl as well as a fresh loaf of bread before he finished.
 
Lysander listened, rapt, as she spoke of the man who raised her and what he’d taught her. There was a reverence in her voice, and also sadness, which he felt like a pang of cold shooting straight through his chest. At that moment, as if in response to her story, the wind began to howl as though it meant to tear down the cottage and bear the two inhabitants against the elements. Somewhere in the back of his mind, pieces began clicking and fitting together, forming in like the edges of a picture whose center remained blurred. He had a strong suspicion that she truly was the one he sought, more so than before, though her talk of a protector gave him pause. No one had ever mentioned anyone holding his position previously, though perhaps they hadn’t known of him or perhaps he was of another order. He sounded like a scholar at the very least, perhaps a world traveler something like himself.

As she refilled his bowl he gave her a warm smile and hearty thanks, before digging in once more. Halfway through, though, he pushed it away with a chuckle. “Alas, I don’t think I could eat another bite, delicious as it is. Thank you, though, for the food and…” nodding towards the window which was continually harassed by a windblown tree branch and splattering sleet, “the accommodations. It would be a harsh, evil night to be alone and out in the woods. I can only imagine what horrors this storm might cause your poor plot, though. Perhaps in the morning, if it clears as you say it will, I might begin to repay your kindness by cleaning and clearing the glenn…” It would also give him a chance to observe her a bit more closely, and hopefully fill in the last few missing pieces of the picture. What’s more, it would also mean a little while longer in her pleasant company, the thought of which made him smile wider still.

“In the meanwhile, perhaps I might answer your question with a bit of a story.” Standing from the table, he carried his things to her kitchen, setting them down and moving to warm his hands by the fire. It was remarkable how warm and comfortable the cottage was, despite the chill and icy wind of the storm outside. “I’m searching… Well, more, I’ve been tasked with finding, and protecting, a very special woman. No, let me begin again, from the proper beginning.” Turning his face from the fire, he gave her a warm smile as he continued. “Years ago, possibly an age or more now, the founders of my order received a prophecy. A prophecy that one day a girl of great power would be born. They were told not where, nor when, though clues and signs have filtered down in the time since, but they haven’t exactly been perfect. The prophecy also said that as she grew, she would be as a beacon in the night, and many would seek for her, though it was markedly unclear as to who would actually find her. We’ve been searching for quite some time, in one guise or another, and I’ve been charged as the latest with the task of finding and protecting her from whatever lays without.”

Taking a deep breath of the warm, dry night air, he settled against the wall beside the fireplace, casting a cautious glance her way in order to gauge any sort of reaction. “It’s all superstition, of course, and most likely nonsense as well, but it’s my charge and so, hmmph, I go!” He finished with a flourish, flicking a hand into the air as if to show it was all so much nonsense, blown away on the wind. It wouldn’t do for him to appear too serious, as he wasn’t sure quite how she’d react, but it paid to play it safe and pretend it was all make believe until he knew about her for sure, one way or another.
 
“These storms are not the problem. They happen suddenly and frequently. In the summer time they can be quite violent, but this sleet and snow is nothing. The fresh shoots of spring can survive as long as they’re still covered with soil and leaves. I will check and make sure that they are still healthy in the morning.” She insisted as he started to speak about helping her in the morning to clean the glen. It would be nice to have someone else around, she thought to herself. It had been far too long since she’d had company…

Her eyes were drawn back to his when he stood from the table and took his things to the sink that pumped in fresh water from a nearby brook. He warmed himself by the fire, his voice strong and firm as he began relating the story that had brought him to the middle of nowhere on that cold, snowy night. It seemed like a fairy tale, a girl that needed protection against evil and who possessed great power. She smiled at him as he shrugged it off and tried to play it safe.

“Well, it’s certainly a handsome tale.” She said as he settled against the fireplace and looked at her for some sort of reaction. “’And a bit romantic, I suppose. A girl that needs rescuing, a prophecy, magic, an evil in the night…it sounds like the tales I was told as a child.”

She stood from her seat, laughing softly as she moved to the sink and began to clean the dishes. She hummed to herself as she worked, ignoring the small ivy that grew in a pot on the window sill that seemed to reach for her as she worked. The tiny tendrils danced in the air, waving too and fro along with the music as she cleaned both bowls and placed them to dry.

“Would you care for dessert? I have some fresh preserves and some crusty bread.” She said, glancing towards the weary traveler.
 
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